


Withdrawal

by MapleCFreter



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, M/M, Repressed Memories, Suicide Attempt, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, an exploration of emotional consequences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-07-28 23:58:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16252439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleCFreter/pseuds/MapleCFreter
Summary: In the aftermath of the Briarwoods, Vax is dealing with a complex mess of feelings. He’s heartbroken over Keyleth and on the verge of leaving Vox Machina. He goes to Percy for a shoulder to cry on and an easy outlet for his feelings. But Percy is dealing with his own issues. With Orthax gone, he is being forced to confront the things the demon was helping him repress.Will Vax be able to see past his own problems and notice Percy’s before it’s too late?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:**  
>  \- This fic has happy parts and a happy-ish ending, but it is not a happy fic. It is an exploration of people dealing with things badly. The characters in this fic are not good role models on how to deal with trauma.  
> \- More tags/warnings might be added later. (maybe they changed, check them)
> 
> I might tweak a few details for dramatic reasons. Most of these will probably be accidental because of my blurry and headcanon distorted take on Percy's past. The only specific (and random) change I can think of, is that the gun Percy stole from Ripley is a pepperbox and not a pistol.

In the aftermath of the Briarwoods, in the week leading up to Winter’s Crest, Vax kept mostly to himself. He barely spoke with the other members of Vox Machina, with the exception of Percival who he went to for advice. Percy was useful in this respect, because he was far too preoccupied to pry into Vax’s mental state. He almost seemed to be avoiding the others as Vax was, and seeing as it was his castle, he was bound to be better at it.

Today, Vax sought out Percy under the pretense of having a letter sent to Gilmore. It wasn’t a pretense, really, but a little bit of commerce felt like a drop in the bucket, if the bucket was the monumental task of rebuilding Whitestone from the rubble. Vax couldn’t rebuild houses like Grog, but he at least wanted to feel like he was doing something. This was difficult to accomplish while preoccupied with the task of avoiding the others.

Vex and Scanlan would surely tease him about Keyleth, or pressure him about his plans surrounding Gilmore. Of course, Vax knew the right thing to do, but he didn’t want to think about it, not yet. This letter would be nothing but business. Keyleth herself was avoiding him so violently she seemed to exude a repulsive aura. Vax would have loved to talk with Pike, but there was no way she could understand the selfish knot of emotions lodged in his mind. Grog didn’t know what was going on, and didn’t care, but he wouldn’t be much help with anything. Which left Percy, who might be trapped into listening to Vax’s problems. Percy would understand selfish. Percy could not judge selfish.

After a tip from Cassandra, Vax managed to locate Percy in his old workshop. It was nothing compared to his shop back in Greyskull, but Percy seemed determined in rebuilding it all the same. Vax had actually checked there earlier with no success, but now that the sun had set, Percy had materialized. Bent over a workbench, he was oblivious to Vax’s entrance.

“I figured you’d know the fastest way to get a letter to Emon,” Vax blurted out.

Percy jumped. He fiddled with his glasses, removing the magnifying lens. Vax couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was doing. Probably building tools, with which to build tools, with which to build guns.

“I want to get a letter to Gilmore,” Vax elaborated, “see if he can help bring some trade back to Whitestone,” he paused, and Percy did nothing to fill the beat of silence. “I want to help.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Percy.

Vax waited just a little too long before responding, expecting Percy to say something else. But he didn’t, simply staring at Vax with a slightly glazed expression.

“Tomorrow then?” Vax asked.

“Yes. I believe it’s rather late. It is, isn’t it?” It wasn’t a rhetorical question.

“Bit after sunset,” Vax said, sitting down across the table from him.

There were deep circles under Percy’s eyes, like bruises. Since they’d arrived in Whitestone, he’d progressively began to look worse and worse; sickly, and hollow, and gaunt. Vax had expected it to fade after Scanlan had destroyed his cursed gun, but if anything, Percy looked worse. Vax couldn’t judge. He hadn’t been sleeping either. And at least Percy had been speaking to his sister, which was more than Vax could say for himself.

“How you feeling?” Vax asked. “You alright?”

“Don’t worry, Vax,” Percy said, readjusting his glasses and picking his tools back up, “Orthax is gone. I am—mostly— smoke-free. I think, if anything, I’ve just been allowing myself to fall back into the unhealthy sleeping patterns of my childhood. Something about being back in his place.”

He sounded stable enough. He was probably fine, more together than Vax himself. Vax wondered if Percy could hear the pain in his voice. He wondered if he cared.

“Do you mind if I stay here while you work?” Vax asked. “I’m interested in messing up my own sleep schedule, and I don’t feel much like dealing with my sister.”

“Of course,” Percy answered quickly. “I will always welcome your company.”

Percy’s eyes lingered on him just a bit too long. They are very blue, and a little goofy, seeing as one was currently much more magnified than the other. Though he could have just been staring into space again. They sat on silence except for the sound of Percy’s work. He appeared to be trying to make a tiny pair of tweezers with tools which were far too big for the task. There was tension between them, the silence not a completely comfortable one, though the edge was removed by the buzz of exhaustion. Vax wished Percy would ask him about Gilmore, or about Keyleth. He wished Percy would ask him if he was alright. It was a strange feeling, seeing as he was currently hiding to prevent the others from asking those very same questions.

“Do you think Keyleth hates me?” Vax blurted out.

Percy froze but did not look up from his work. “Of course not. Why would she hate you?”

“For admitting how I feel… for putting her on the spot like that.”

“Oh… right…” Percy’s voice got a little quieter with every word. “You love her.”

Vax had to lean forward a little to catch the end.

“Very much,” he responded, just as softly.

Percy bit his lip. Whether it was from concentration or something else, Vax had no way of knowing. It must have been hard doing such delicate work, with hands that shook as terribly as Percy’s did.

“I love her,” Vax admitted, “but I think it may have been a mistake to admit it. There is part of me that feels like I needed to be honest, but I am terrified that I can never go back.”

“It’s alright Vax.” Percy smiled at him. It was a little robotic, but at least he was trying. “I can’t read Keyleth’s mind, so I don’t know if she returns your feelings, but I do know this. She does love you, even if it’s not in the same way you love her. She’d never let something like this change that.”

“I hope you’re right,” Vax sighed.

“I often am.” Percy cracked a smile.

He was curling a thin piece of metal into a spring, but his hands were shaking worse and worse with each second. A single bead of sweat clung to Percy’s brow. He was also disturbingly pale, Vax noted, like he was sick. The metal snapped in his hands, and Percy swore quietly. Frustration rolled off him in waves as he lowered his forehead to rest in his palm.

“You need to take a break, my friend,” Vax said. “Pelor knows you deserve one.”

All he got in response was a grunt.

“Gods know I could use a fucking drink,” Vax said. “And I diagnose you with a similar affliction.”

Without looking up, Percy pulled open a drawer in his workbench and rifled through. Producing a silver flask, he held it out in Vax’s direction.

“Way ahead of me, as usual,” Vax said.

As he reached to take it, his hand rested for a moment over Percy’s. His skin was cold and clammy. It was a little off-putting. Percy still didn’t look up from his hands as Vax took a swig from the flask. He almost gagged. Vax could hold his liquor, but he hadn’t been prepared for something that strong.

“Is this moonshine?” he managed, after swallowing what—in retrospect—had been far too large a sip.

Percy nodded. “Not a fan?”

“Nah, it’s exactly what I need right now.” To demonstrate, Vax took another swig. “Here. You look like you need it almost as much as I do.”

“To be completely honest,” said Percy, “it hasn’t really been doing it for me,” he took the flask all the same, “but I might as well. I wouldn’t make you drink alone.”

As he raised the flask to his lips, Percy’s hand was still noticeably quivering.

“You sure you’re feeling alright?” Vax asked. “Maybe you’re getting sick or something.”

“I don’t think so.” Percy drank deep of the burning liquid. It did nothing to numb the mess in his head. “What do you think is next for Vox Machina?” he asked, changing the topic expertly. “After Winter’s Crest, I mean.”

There was weight behind Percy’s question, more than just simple curiosity, but thankfully Vax did not notice. The question had been a perfectly placed weapon strike; like a blade between the ribs or a bullet to the brain. It struck right at the root of Vax’s problem.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” Vax admitted, “I don’t know why we’re doing it. I don’t know, I’ve just been thinking - what is the point of our lives?”

Percy was listening now, really listening. “I have been feeling much the same way. After… after… what’s left for me now?”

“When it was just me and Vex,” Vax continued, “we were just surviving. Now, I don’t always know why I’m doing the things I do. We’re going to go back to Emon and what? Try to reclaim seats on the council? Why? I am so glad I could help you get your home back, Percy. But we got dark. You can’t deny that. And it wasn’t just you. Now I’m here, feeling like shit, knowing that most of you probably don’t want the same life I do. I don’t know why I’m doing it! I don’t know why I’m with most of you people! And I love you people, but I don’t know why I’m doing it.” Vax deflated, shoulders slumping. “Gods… I need to talk to Vex. I will. Just not right now, not after I almost lost her. I’ll hold off until I’m back in Emon. I’ll add it to the list.”

“You’re thinking about leaving Vox Machina?” Percy asked, in a voice that was both quiet and flat, devoid of emotion.

Vax winced, apologetic eyes locking with Percy’s. They told Percy all he needed to know.

“Would it matter if I said I would prefer it if you stayed?”

“You’ve got so much here, Percival. You have your home back: a castle, a sister. Tiberius already left. Keyleth will be far too busy becoming the leader of her people to worry about us much longer. There is something about this week that feels like an epilogue.”

Percy was too far gone to know if the spinning in his head was from alcohol or lack of sleep. All he knew was that the room had pitched sideways at a sharp, ninety-degree angle, and that he was using every remaining ounce of self control not to beg. _Please don’t go._ Vax would leave, taking Vex with him, and cracks would spread outwards through Vox Machina like on the surface of a frozen pond. The ice would shatter, and they would be spread to the wind, and Percy would lose the last thing he’d been clinging on to.

“I suppose if Keyleth doesn’t share your feelings and Vex is willing to leave with you, what else is there for you in Vox Machina?”

At first, Percy did not recognize that it was him who had been speaking. His own words sounded like they came from a million miles away, spoken by someone else. Someone who was calm and uncaring, who wasn’t crumbling to pieces.

Vax loved Vex and Keyleth, but he did not love Percy. That much had always been clear. They were good friends. Helping Percy against the Briarwoods had been just one more heroic deed to add to Vax’s roster. Percy had been freed from his demon, and Vax would move on. It was terribly in inconvenient, Percy thought, with a tinge or dry humour, that he had recently come to the realization that he was a little in love with Vax. The feelings had bobbed to the surface along with everything else Orthax had been helping him to repress. With the demon gone Percy was being forced to face a lot of things he had previously been shielded from dealing with. His feelings for his friend were some of the least difficult, but Percy’s bad night had just gone from _getting better_ to _exponentially worse_.

“Don’t say it like that!” Vax protested, picking up on the bitterness in Percy’s voice, but not on the internal struggle. “But you’re right. I’m not sure yet. I’m not sure about anything. I was just thinking aloud, I’m sorry. Thank you for listening to my shit.”

He reached forward and clasped one of Percy’s hands in his. Vax was a touchy person, it meant nothing, yet the warmth of his hands was all that Percy could feel. The feeling of Vax’s skin against his filled his entire consciousness, threatening to rob him of speech, and Percy was reminded, for the hundredth time that night, that he was losing his mind.

“Of course,” he said, in a voice that still did not feel like his own. “I’m happy to. You can always come to me, Vax.”

Percy withdrew his hand before he could do something stupid.

“I should go to sleep,” Percy said. “I apologize. I don’t want you to get the idea I’m leaving because of your honesty. I get the sense this is a very long week for both of us. We should get a proper drink tomorrow when I’m capable of giving you the attention you deserve.”

“No offence taken,” Vax smiled. “Go get some fucking sleep before you pass out. You’re practically swaying.”

As Percy left the workshop, Vax was busy cursing himself for oversharing. At least Percy hadn’t given him a hard time.

Percy was very aware of the fact that he’d lied. He would not be sleeping. He did not wish to face what awaited him in his dreams. He was no stranger to nightmares, but with Orthax around they had been curated. They had been stylized concepts half obscured in smoke, and they’d often ended in the catharsis of burying bullet after bullet in the chests of those who had done this to him. With Orthax, any feelings not useful to the demon had been replaced with anger. Fear, helplessness, regret, even self-loathing had not reached him in their full forms.

Before there had been nothing but the mission. Now, there was nothing left but to face the things he had never dealt with all those years ago. It was hard to hate yourself when you were busy hating other people. Revenge and Orthax had been a tourniquet, and with them gone Percy was bleeding out.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Vax began his search for Percy after dinner. He intended to hold the other man to the drink he’d promised, if for nothing else then to smooth over any harm he may have caused with his rant. Percy was just as good, if not better, than him at hiding from the rest of Vox Machina, so the only clue he’d managed to acquire was from Grog.

“Think I saw him out back,” the goliath had grunted. “Also, I’m pretty sure Vex was looking for you.”

Vax had taken that as his cue to flee, and now he was making his way across the sliver of overgrown garden that set Whitestone Castle apart from the forest. Frost crunched underfoot, and a few flurries melted against his skin. Early snow like this never stayed for long.

Though not an expert, Vax had picked up a little bit of tracking from his sister. It helped that this area did not see much traffic, and he was able to pick up on the path Percy had taken through the weeds. He wound his way through the trees, descending the hill on which the castle was built. He’d been searching for about fifteen minutes when he heard the sound of rushing water, and a gut feeling pushed him to follow it. Sure enough, there Percy was. He stood on the bank staring into the white-water like he was hypnotized.

“Percival.” Vax made his presence know.

Percy jumped, hand flying to his gun. “Gods! I hate when you do that.”

“Sorry.”

Honestly, Vax didn’t even know he was doing it half the time. Silent footsteps were as natural to him as breathing.

Percy had gone back to staring at the rushing water. “It’s cold,” he commented, absently, “it comes from melting snow up in the mountains. You can find ice, even in summer.”

There was a stretching pause.

“What are you doing out here, Freddy?” Vax asked.

“Retracing my steps,” came the flat reply. “Since uh… you know…” He stopped and refocused. “What happened here, to me, was always a bit of a blur. I wasn’t lying to you guys, I really didn’t remember it. Not really. Well I did but… I—uh. I remember it better now. I think Orthax may have been shielding me from some of it.”

“What that thing was doing,” said Vax, “whatever it was. That wasn’t shielding.”

“I probably should have died in this river,” Percy said. “By all logic I don’t understand how I survived.”

Vax walked over and placed a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “Well, we’re all glad that you did. Especially the people of Whitestone, and Cassandra. Without you, who could have returned to save them?”

“Yes… Yes. I served my purpose. And, you’re right, it was a good one.”

“It’s amazing, seeing Whitestone put itself back together. A whole city. I’ve never seen anything like it. I can’t help thinking about how we did this; Vox Machina. Maybe that’s why I’m still here. Maybe that’s why I’m doing this.”

“You’re a hero, Vax. To me that’s always been obvious. Before Orthax I was a coward. I was the kind of person who ran, leaving their sister to bleed out in the snow. I threw my bleeding body into this river. They pulled me out numb, and I stayed that way, until the smoke came and filled me with fire, and purpose. With it gone, am I that person again?”

Vax had run out of words of encouragement. Percy was right. He could not imagine leaving Vex behind as he had left Cassandra. He knew Percy had been young, and scared, but Vax knew in his heart he never would have been capable of leaving his twin behind. Then again, Vax had never been the best at keeping himself from death.

All he could manage was, “I hope not.”

Vax and Percy headed back towards the castle together. But before they could get too close, Vax intercepted.

“Actually… I’m still avoiding my problems by hiding. The usual. You don’t mind being an accomplice, do you?”

“Of course not. I was going to head back to my workshop, but I could use a break. What sort of hiding do you have in mind?”

Percy seemed to have shaken himself out of the stupor he’d been stuck in at the river. The familiar wit had returned, coming as a relief to Vax.

“The alcohol related kind? This is your town. Can you find us somewhere out of the way where Scanlan and Grog aren’t going to come stumbling in?”

“I will try my best.” Percy smirked at him. “Though no guarantees. It is difficult to compete with Grog’s thirst for ale.”

It was a difficult task for the Lord of Whitestone and an auxiliary savior of the city to move through it completely unnoticed. But respectful bows and words of thanks were easy enough to deal with. When Vax and Percy finally settled in the back corner of a dingy tavern they were left politely alone, aside for the occasional drink refill. The barkeep insisted that they didn’t have to pay, but Percy admitted to Vax his intention to leave a large pile of gold on their departure.

“Don’t tell Vex,” he joked, “but it’ll be for the good of Whitestone. An important part of rebuilding is stimulating the economy.”

“My lips are sealed.” Vax winked.

“Have I ever told you, it’s creepy how much you look like her sometimes?”

“Is that a good or bad thing?”

“Neither, really…” Percy adjusted his glasses awkwardly. “I like the things that are different about you, just like I like the things that are different about her. It makes things more interesting… that there are two of you. Twice the trouble.”

Vax bit back the dirty joke he’d wanted to make after _“things that are different about you”_ and simply said, “so, a bad thing then?”

It took approximately an ale and a half for the topic to switch to more serious things. Vax was the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, so it was honestly impressive he’d made it this far. The topic had moved to the letter Vax intended to send to Gilmore. Percy had done some organizing, and there was a currier prepared to depart the following morning.

“Thank you,” Vax said, taking a swallow of ale. “I already have it written. I should be able to hand it to the guy, even hungover.”

“It was no trouble…” Percy seemed to struggle with his words for a moment. “If you don’t mind me asking, is this letter purely of a business nature or are you addressing more personal things?”

“Business. I uh… listen. You don’t have to lecture me. I know. I know this is something I’m going to have to deal with. It’s just the kind of thing I’ll have to deal with in person. This week is weird. It feels weird, but there is part of me that wants to stretch it out forever. When I get back to Emon, when this epilogue is over, we’ll have to start the next chapter. And I’m not sure what that will be. I’ll need to stop avoiding Vex and talk to her about what’s next, about why we’re still here. And yes, I will need to end things with Gilmore. As much as there is a part of me that doesn’t want to.”

“Even if things with Keyleth don’t go the way you’re hoping?”

The tavern was thick with shadows. Flickering lanterns provided only localized pools of firelight. Vax fought the urge to fade into them and disappear. He couldn’t read the expression on Percy’s face as he asked the question. Shifting reflections on his glasses only made this more difficult. Was it judgment? Indifference? Something else?

“I may be selfish, Percival, but I’m not that selfish. Or at least, I’m trying not to be. I’ve enjoyed my time with Gilmore, and I care for him very much, but I know how I feel about Keyleth. It would be wrong of me to lead him on, to use him, while I know I would throw him aside in a second for her.”

Percy didn’t say anything in response. He took a couple sips of ale as if this was the natural end to the thread of conversation. And maybe it was.

“Since we’re on the topic,” Vax ventured. “Have you spoken to Keyleth at all this week? You guys are best friends.”

Percy raised an eyebrow.

“I just want to know how she’s doing. The business with the Briarwoods wasn’t easy on anyone, and then I had to dump this on her in addition…”

“We haven’t really talked about you, if that’s what you’re asking,” said Percy. “I haven’t really been able to avoid her. She cares a lot. Too much, I think. She’s checked in a few times to make sure I’m not still possessed. She likes to remind me to eat. And I should probably come clean…” Percy looked a little sheepish. “I love her, I do. She’s like a sister to me, but… sometimes she can be a bit…” He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. “Much? We are foils of each other, in a way. This week I have not been equipped to deal with that. So, I have to come clean and admit that I did bring up the topic of _you_ to get her to leave me alone. I knew she wouldn’t want to discuss it. She’s still processing.”

Much to his own surprise, Vax was laughing. Percy also seemed taken aback by this reaction, but it was contagious and soon he was smiling as well. Vax knew this was only funny because he was drunk. The barkeep was diligent at refilling their drinks, and the golden beams of lantern light were beginning to run like paint over Percy’s white hair and the polished wood of the booth.

“Thank you, Freddy,” Vax peered at him through splayed fingers. “It’s good to know my embarrassment of a love life has served at least one useful purpose.”

The laughter continued as Vax struggled to get a hold of himself. Tears threatened to spill over, and he wasn’t completely sure which kind they were.

“Gods, we’re both terrible, aren’t we?” he asked, finally looking up from his hands as the laughter subsided.

Percy was watching him with a slightly goofy, drunken smile on his face. “You’re not too terrible. I mean, comparatively. For no other reason, you should stay in Vox Machina so that you continue to look good in contrast. I mean… I don’t think Grog would understand the concept of a relationship, I’m _me_ , and do you ever wonder about the dark secrets that lie in the past of Scanlan’s love life?”

Vax exaggerated a flinch. “Why would you make me think about that? Some things are meant to stay buried, you know?”

“Do you know how old he is?” Percy asked. “I’ve never been able to get a straight answer.”

Vax did not respond, as he was taking a particularly long drink.

“Sorry… sorry…” He lowered his mug. “Can you repeat that? I was distracted. Were we talking about a _straight_ answer in regards to Scanlan’s love life?”

Percy’s eyeroll was legendary, but it was accompanied by a very satisfying snort of laughter. There were a few moments of comfortable silence. The air in the tavern was warm, and Vax was at the perfect point of buzzed where everything felt a bit fluffy.

“You know,” Vax commented, a tiny bit of slur creeping in. “You’re the best thing we ever found in a prison.”

Though not obvious to Vax in the muted lighting, Percy had flushed a deep red. It was warm in the small building, and alcohol always made him a bit pink in the face. Though now that he was aware of the blush, it was a vicious feedback loop where its presence just lead to more embarrassment.

“Not a particularly high bar,” Percy commented, while not making eye contact.

Vax was oblivious. He was immersed in perfect, drunken contentment, splayed against the back of the booth, chin tilted slightly upward. For the first time in a long time, Vax’s mind buzzed with only happy thoughts.

“You can find all kinds of useful things in prisons,” Vax slurred, not particularly caring if he made sense.

He’d been overcome by a great gratitude for Percy’s friendship, for a great night like this among all the bad.

“You always get so sappy when you’re drunk,” Percy said, fondly, leaning forward across the table. “It’s adorable.”

“Always?” Vax leaned forward to meet Percy’s eyes. Sluggish thoughts struggled to extract meaning from his teasing expression.

“It makes sense that you don’t realize. You probably don’t remember. Whenever you get just a bit too drunk that prickly exterior falls away and you start babbling about how much you love everyone. Your sister finds it especially hilarious, but it’s a phenomenon all of Vax Machina is aware of.”

“I feel so studied,” Vax sulked. “Just because I appreciate so much how you guys are my friends?”

“I’ve always liked it,” Percy said, softly. “It showed me how much you really care. You’ve got so much love, just like…” He trailed off.

Vax did not stop to think about the end of the sentence. He and Percy were fairly close, both leaning across the table. He couldn’t help staring a little. Percy was very pretty. It was just a fact of life, which had been discussed and accepted by both him and Vex. If they ever got around to taking the poll they’d talked about, Vax would wager all members of Vox Machina except for maybe Grog would vote affirmative on the conclusion that Percy was very good looking. It didn’t help that the lighting suited him. Honey-drip lantern light framed him from behind. It shone through his slightly dishevelled white hair. His cheeks were tinged red from heat and alcohol. And the glasses always made his blue eyes look that much bigger.

It occurred to Vax that Percy had been speaking, and he hadn’t heard a word of it. He tuned back in just in time to notice that Percy’s expression had shifted to something more serious.

“Promise me you won’t leave?” he asked. “Stay with Vox Machina. We need you.”

Oh. Percy would miss him if he left. He hadn’t really thought about that. They probably all would. Why had he thought…?

“I have a rule,” Vax said, a bit of sobriety pushing through, for a moment. “I don’t make promises when I’m drunk. This time though… I wish I could.”

“It’s a good rule.” Percy smiled. It was a sad smile, but fond, and contented. “I might have to adopt it.”

He was just so gods damn nice! It was ridiculous. Percy had been far too nice to him all week. That annoying noble snark was still there, but softer, kinder. Had he always been this nice under all that smoke and anger? Vax wasn’t sure what he would have done this week if Percy hadn’t been around; probably hidden, and wallowed, and isolated himself. This was certainly preferable, Vax thought, as he beckoned the barkeep over for another refill.

After this point, when Vax looked back on the memories of the night, it became difficult to organize them in an orderly fashion. He wasn’t backout, per se, but timelines became difficult to understand, and the memories were more composed of emotions and concepts than concrete things.

He and Percy had both been very drunk, but there had been no guilt at the loss of control. They’d both earned this. Vax was almost certain that had been said aloud. There had been laughter, hanging constantly in the air around them. At some point they’d ended up in the same side of the booth. Time blurred together and skipped forward until they were the last ones in the tavern. It was somehow determined, probably by Percy—he was always too polite—that they would have to depart, freeing the poor owner from her duties. They’d dashed for the door, in half a run, before she could attempt to refuse the pile of gold Percy had left. Vax did not remember how much. They’d crashed through into the cold night air, their racing breath just beginning to form clouds. Vax did not remember feeling cold.

Then, Vax lost time. Not much, but some. The next thing he remembered was deciding to do something which he regretted terribly later that night. He wished he could say he didn’t remember, that he wasn’t sure who it was who had crossed that line. But he did remember, and there was no use in lying to oneself.

He and Percy were somewhere in the winding alleys of Whitestone, presumably on their way back to the castle. They’d been laughing and talking, stumbling into each other like idiots. Percy’s arm had settled around Vax’s shoulders, something Vax was acutely aware of. He distinctly remembered thinking _“what the hell?”_ before turning and kissing Percy full on the lips.

Percy’s little gasp of surprise crystallised to ice in the air. Then, he melted into the kiss. Vax felt the cold metal of Percy’s glasses digging into his face, but he couldn’t have cared less. Percy’s arm snaked around his waist, holding Vax against him. There was a desperation in the way Percy was kissing him. He was a little surprised by the eagerness of the response. That was the thing about Percy. He was quiet and calm, and reserved, until he wasn’t. Then, it was like an explosion. He was like a black powder keg.

Vax shoved Percy against the wall before he could be completely consumed by the flames. The arm around Vax’s waist only got tighter. They were chest to chest, forehead to forehead. Vax was only the tiniest bit shorter than Percy, and they fit together perfectly. The pain in his cheek disappeared as Percy removed his glasses, shoving them into a pocket with unneeded frustration. Then, there were fingers in Vax’s hair.

Pressed together like they were, Percy trapped between Vax and the wall, Vax could feel him get hard, even through the starched pants. Everything was happening too fast. This was not the place. Vax’s hand gripped Percy’s collar, and a few buttons had come undone inadvertently. He could feel gooseflesh rising on Percy’s skin. Their bodies may have been warm, but it was a cold night.

Where could they go? The obvious answer was the castle. But Vox Machina was there: Keyleth, Vex… what would they think? What was he doing? Vax struggled to form words as Percy’s tongue ventured into his mouth. Faced with the question of where to go, Vax had been forced to think, to register the truth of the situation. Suddenly, he felt very dizzy.

He let Percy kiss him for a moment longer, afraid to leave the warmth of his body, not wanting to lose the tingling feeling where they touched. But most of all, he hesitated because he was afraid of what came next. Gripping Percy by the shoulders, Vax stepped back, firmly separating them both. Percy stared at him with a slightly glazed expression, his pupils blown wide, and half a smile lingering on his lips.

“Sorry…” Vax breathed, lamely. He took another step back, separating them completely. “I’m pretty drunk, I—” It was a hollow excuse. “That was a mistake.”

Vax had been hoping for indifference, or relief, in the worst case maybe a return of the anger. But all he saw on Percy’s face was confusion, tinged with a bit of hurt.

“You know why. You know I’m trying to…” Vax struggled. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Vax?”

Percy looked upset, but like he was doing an incredibly bad job at not looking upset. Vax hadn’t been prepared for that. Then again, what reaction would he have been prepared for? Indifference maybe; a laugh and an eyeroll.

“I uh…” Percy trailed off.

He was stunned, out of fancy words for once in his life. He was probably still as drunk as Vax was, which meant that expecting him to formulate a response was asking too much.

Percy’s shock gave Vax the perfect opportunity to slink away without further incident, so he took it, muttering a quiet, “I need to clear my head. Thanks for tonight, it helped a lot,” before disappearing into the shadows.

Vax wasn’t sure if Percy tried to follow him, but winding streets at night were his favourite terrain. In places like this, he could fade into the shadows until it was like he didn’t exist.

He shouldn’t have worried, for Percy did not attempt to follow him. In fact, as soon as Vax was out of sight, Percy slumped back against the wall, and slid to the ground. The alley was spinning. And just like the previous night, he was unsure how much of it was the alcohol, and how much of it was the terrible state he’d managed to get himself in. His mouth still tasted like Vax. He could still feel the other man’s hands against his body.

He felt like crying, but he’d run out of tears days ago. He wanted to be mad, that Vax had actually managed to make him feel better, only to snatch it away again just as quickly. But he wasn’t. Percy didn’t have much anger left, for anyone but himself. In the end, all Vax had really done was delayed the inevitable for a few hours. Had Percy not been in a similar state when Vax had found him?

No, this wasn’t really about Vax. Percy knew that, as much as it felt like it was. This whole situation was hauntingly familiar. He’d done this last time, he realized. He did not often think about his time on the boat. He’d been much like he was now: numb, barely existing, unable to process what had happened to him. As a result, his memories of that time blurred into one another. He hadn’t slept much then, either. He’d been drunk a lot of the time, spending his meager pay on spirits or any other drugs he could get his hands on. There had been a man on the boat, another sailor. Percy did not immediately remember his name, and he did not care to try. They’d had a relationship of sorts. Percy had just been trying to feel something. Or maybe to not feel something?

Now the same destructive coping mechanisms reared their ugly head. The difference was Vax meant something to him. Vax was his friend; his family. He didn’t deserve to be dragged into Percy’s bullshit. Last time, Percy had buried himself in intoxication and meaningless sex until Orthax had found him. The demon had locked the trauma in a box and said, _“kill them all and you will never have to face this.”_

“I’ll see you again soon,” Percy said aloud, “one way or another. I can feel it. Though I get the sense it won’t be a warm welcome.”

Then, he fell onto his hands and knees and vomited. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the memories.


	3. Chapter 3

Vax awoke with a headache and the overwhelming desire to punch himself in the face. There had been one person in this fucking castle who he could talk to, and now he’d messed that up as well, in the messiest possible way. Maybe Percy doesn’t care, a part of himself begged. Vax would have to talk to him about it. Or… add it to the list of things he needed to talk to people about.

On the floor beside his bed, his waterskin mercifully sat half full. Vax chugged some, grabbed his letter to Gilmore, and headed to find the currier. Maybe Percy would be there, seeing as he’d arranged it. But when Vax met up with the young man in the courtyard it seemed like that was not to be. Vax handed off the scroll with some instructions on how to locate Gilmore’s Glorious Goods, before slinking back into the castle.

The thing was, he knew he was being ridiculous. He was withdrawing from his friends for no good reason. Percy, at least, had a good excuse to be a mess. Sure, retaking Whitestone had not been a walk in the park. Vax had been mind controlled a few times, almost lost his sister, fought off waves of the living dead. Lying on the ground outside of Uriel’s palace, Vax had really thought he was going to die. But that was just life for Vox Machina. He had no right to let it affect him when the others stood so strong. That was one of the reasons he was thinking about leaving. Sometimes it felt like he just wasn’t cut out for this.

He was feeling alone and lost, and the worst part was he knew having one conversation with Vex would fix it, but he just couldn’t bring himself to face her. She would ridicule him for the way he’d been acting, and rightly so. This had gone on long enough. Vax’s pile of problems had grown too precarious. He had to deal with something—at least one thing—today, he was putting his foot down. And it only made sense to start at the root of the problem. He had to talk to Keyleth.

Despite his newfound resolve, it took Vax until after dinner to work up the nerve. At this point he’d managed to shake his hangover and had rehearsed his lines dozens of times. Vax knew that the rest of Vox Machina, excluding Percy and himself, usually ate dinner together. Pressed to the wall outside the door to the banquette hall, Vax could hear them talking. He knew it was stupid not to join them, but his fear held him back. One thing at a time. He was going to talk to Keyleth tonight, and that by itself was a victory.

Keyleth was the first to retire, leaving the banquette hall without noticing him and headed towards her room. Vax followed her, revealing himself in the upper levels of the castle like it was a chance encounter.

“Keyleth!” he called, flinching at the uncertainty in his voice. “Hey.”

He just stood there, staring at her. All the rehearsal, all the bravado drained away, and he was left mute. She was beautiful. Maybe a little ragged around the edges, a little too wild for those who didn’t know her. But Vax knew her. He knew how dangerous she was, and how kind. How moral and brave but scared and lost. There were some knots in her red hair, and he wanted nothing more in that moment than to help her brush them out. She was a wild thing, and suddenly he felt guilty for wishing to shape her to fit in this castle when her place was so clearly in the woods behind.

“I…” she stammered. “I’m really confused.”

It was too much, and Vax turned to leave.

“Wait!” she called after him, and his heart beat ten times faster. “You can’t go back to avoiding me. To avoiding everyone.”

Vax stopped. She was right, of course. So, he turned to face her, and waited.

“I do think about you,” she admitted. “But with the weight of the world on our shoulders. With the future of my people in my hands… it is hard to focus on. You…” she stuttered. “you said that when you were near death. We say a lot of things, when we’re near death. How do I know that was what you were truly feeling?”

All scripts thrown away, Vax did the only thing he could do. He spoke from the heart. “I wore a mask for a long time, where I grew up. And I’m not going to do that anymore. I’ll wait.”

“Wait?”

“For you.”

Keyleth flinched, and again Vax felt guilt clawing at the inside of his chest. But there was no going back now.

“Okay. I don’t know what else to say right now. I’m really tired. Really tired. I think…” the excuses tumbled out. Vax recognized the expression in her eyes. It was one of a trapped animal searching for an escape. His heart felt like it would burn a hole through his armor. “I think I might just be afraid. But…” And for the first time she met his eyes, and there was an apology there, painted in green. “But… please don’t wait forever, Vax. For something… for something that will probably never come. Please don’t do that to yourself.”

He couldn’t cry, not in front of her. He refused to make her feel any more guilt on his account. She was far too kind.

“I just wanted to clear the air,” Vax said. “If you were interested, then a date. If not, a promise that I will never push. I love you, regardless.”

“I can’t Vax…” she breathed. “Not now. I’m not sure if… ever…”

He nodded. “Don’t change anything about yourself. Ever. I haven’t lied. I’ve told the truth. If you’ll have me, I’m yours. If you don’t want me, I understand. And that’s all there is to say.”

Then, he turned and walked away. This time, she did not call after him.

Vax desperately needed to clear his head. He loved Keyleth. Of this, he was sure. But part of loving her was letting her come to him in her own time, or not at all. He would continue to love her even if she did not wish to be with him in the same way he wished to be with her. They were family no matter what. Anything else was secondary. Still, he couldn’t ignore the painful feeling lodged in his chest.

The roof of Castle Whitestone was easily accessible, as guards were sometimes stationed up here to survey the grounds. Vax slipped out into the cold air, as silent as ever. A gloved hand on the door hinges prevented them from squeaking. Up here, the only thing taller was the towers. The entirety of the castle, and the city itself spread out far below. Vax had spent a few moments staring out over the flickering firelight and rising smoke of this place that they’d saved, when he realized he was not alone.

Of course, Percy was here. That was just the kind of night Vax was having. At least he didn’t seem to have noticed him. Percy was sitting on the concrete wall that marked the edge of the roof. He faced away from Whitestone, legs dangling over an inner courtyard. Despite the fact that tonight was even colder than the one before, Percy wasn’t wearing his trademark jacket. His armor was also conspicuously missing, and he sat hunched forward in only a white dress shirt and pants. However, Doctor Ripley’s pepperbox still sat at his hip.

Vax just stood and watched for a moment, pulled tight into the shadow of the tower from which he’d emerged. Percy was shivering, hugging himself uselessly as he stared down into nothingness. He also looked incredibly tired. Guilt clawed at Vax, whispering that this was his fault, that what he’d done had somehow hurt Percy so badly it had brought him here. His first instinct was that he was the last thing Percy would want to see. But as he turned to leave, a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his sister’s whispered, _“not everything is about you.”_ Vax stopped in his tracks and looked back at his friend. He couldn’t leave Percy here. What if he froze to death? Or nodded off and slid forward off the roof?

Percy was in a terribly precarious position, and for a moment Vax was afraid to speak in case it startled him into pitching forward. Instead, he crept closer until Percy was within grabbing distance, before asking, “are you alright?”

The little jump Percy did was too much for Vax’s nerves, and he wrapped his arm around the other man, pulling him back so he was more solidly on the wall. Percy shook him off, peering over his shoulder with an expression of distrust and vague annoyance. He looked somehow paler, and thinner, with darker circles than even the night before. One glasses lens was cracked.

“Are you okay, Percival?” Vax repeated the question.

“What do you think?” Percy asked, smooth and sarcastic, refusing to turn around, looking at Vax out of the corner of his eye.

“No. I think that you’ve been messed up since Scanlan destroyed that gun and you became, unpossessed. I think you’re withdrawing from your friends and trying to handle your shit alone. I also think you’re going to get hypothermia if you stay out here.”

“Given recent events,” Percy said, “do you think it would be rude of me to ask you to leave me alone?”

“No,” Vax said again, sighing, and watching as his breath condensed. “No, I think that’s fair. But I’m not going to.”

Percy didn’t say anything else. He just went back to hugging himself and staring out over the courtyard.

“Please come inside, Freddy,” Vax begged.

Again, there was no response, but Percy pulled his shoulder away when Vax tried to touch him. Due to his currently precarious position, Vax did not think using force was the best idea.

“I’m worried about you,” Vax said. “I’m not going to leave you out here.” He paused, bracing himself. “I’ll go get Vex. I really don’t want to. I’ve been avoiding her too. But I will, because you’re clearly not okay and I’m not just going to leave you up here. If she sees you like this she’ll be worried. They all will. But I’ll afford you a courtesy I hope that you’d afford to me, and let you work through what you’re working through without having to face them. Because I do understand.” Vax leaned over the wall beside Percy, looking up at him. “So, what will it be? Who would you rather deal with?”

Slowly, stiffly Percy swung his legs back around to the correct side of the wall. Then, it was like a threshold of willpower had been exceeded and his shivering became more violent. His teeth chattered a little as he opened his mouth to say something. But quickly thought better of it, clenching his mouth closed.

“You’re such a moron,” Vax grumbled, as he helped him down. “How long have you been out here? Where in the hells is your coat?”

Percy was shaking violently, and Vax swung an arm over his shoulders, guiding him back towards the door. Despite himself, Percy was far too cold to pull away.

“Let’s go down to the kitchen,” Vax said. “I’ll make you some tea or something.”

Percy did not protest. He was too busy shivering and staring at the ground. On their way down, Vax passed his room, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around Percy’s shoulders. Thankfully, as they passed the doors to the banquette hall, no sounds came from within. It was clear Vox Machina had gone to bed, or at least were elsewhere.

In the kitchen, the last few servants were finishing tidying up.

“Much left to do?” Vax asked.

“Not at all, sir,” a woman piped up.

It was clear their time with the Briarwoods had left its mark on these people, in the way they flinched away from him, and the speed at which they scuttled out. Vax grabbed an iron kettle and set about making tea, while Percy took a seat at the small table beside the only still-burning fireplace. He poked at the embers, coaxing them back to life, staring into the flames like he was hypnotized. He was still shivering a little, but by the time the water was boiled, and Vax went to join him, he looked much less like he was about to die.

“Sorry,” Vax said, lamely.

“Don’t be,” Percy sighed. “My problems are my own. It’s better you’re not getting involved in them.”

Not sure what to say, Vax poured them some tea, even though it probably could have used another half a minute.

“I’d ask if you wanted to talk about it,” Vax began, “but I know you don’t. So, I’m telling you, I think you should talk about it. You have your home back. And your sister. That thing… _Orthax?_ is gone. I was afraid of you, of what you were becoming. I didn’t want you to hurt yourself or any of us. I didn’t want to face what we would have to do if you went too far. But that’s over now. You’re just Freddy. I’m not afraid of you anymore… but I am worried.”

“Are you sure?” Percy asked. Too-white hands clasped the steaming cup but did not raise it.

“About what?”

“That I’m not dangerous anymore. You didn’t know me before Orthax. You have no idea who I was, what I was like.”

“I don’t believe we were dealing with a demon all this time; just a man dealing with one. I know you, Percival. You haven’t become something else.”

“How do you know how much of it was him and how much of it was me? And I’m talking about the good and the bad. How do you know what I’m capable of? How dangerous I am? Do you think a demon like that would manifest for just anyone?”

“Stop it,” Vax ordered. “Whether your right or not, it’s not going to make me leave you alone. Quite the contrary. So out with it. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Vax hadn’t meant to be this blunt, but Percy had been pushing all the right buttons. He was good at that. Even if Vax knew he was doing it, it didn’t negate the fears Vax had always had about the human. He’d been so nice these last few nights, Vax had almost forgotten that sometimes he wasn’t; that he was an unstable element inside of Vox Machina, something to be watched. He’d hoped that was gone with that cursed gun, but clearly, he’d been wrong. Or at least Percy was doing a terribly good job convincing him otherwise.

Sighing heavily, Percy seemed to relax a little. “The best way I can explain it,” he began, “is it’s like I’m going through withdrawal. Orthax was destroying me, but now that he’s gone… it’s like I’m coming down cold turkey. Like an addict who has been using for too long, I’m not sure how much of my identity is left. Without the revenge he stoked in me, what purpose do I have to get up in the morning? There’s only Ripley left and—” Percy choked on his words, looking nauseous for half a second before he continued speaking. “But without Orthax I’m not strong enough. I feel weak, fuzzy, like I really am going through drug withdrawal. Then, of course, there are the things that pushed me to start using in the first place. I’m scared to be without him, as insane as that sounds. And believe me, I know it’s insane.”

“You can say that again,” Vax said, still processing.

“It feels like I’m losing my mind,” Percy hissed, holding his face in his hands. “Just now I don’t have an excuse. Now that I’m _sober_ what is there left but to accept that it’s just me?”

“If we stick with the metaphor,” Vax attempted, feeling very out of his depth, “then you just have to get through it, right? What you’re going through, it won’t be forever.”

“In theory,” Percy whispered, before taking a deep sip of tea. The steam fogged up his already cracked glasses.

His hands were shaking again, Vax noted. And he couldn’t help but wonder exactly how literal Percy was being.

“So, what about you?” Percy changed the subject. “You deal with any of your problems? Or are you just here to preach?”

With every word that passed his lips, Percy hated himself a little more. But at this point they were just drops in the bucket. He needed to drive Vax away, or at least start an argument. If things continued like this he was going to start crying, and that would be the most evil act of all. He neither deserved nor wanted their pity. Forcing Vax to spend time with him through worry and guilt was worse than no Vax at all. Annoyance rippled across Vax’s face and Percy felt like his heart was contracting. The corners of the room swam with white spots. It felt like he was dying.

“As a matter of fact…” Vax stuck out his chin indignantly, “I did speak with Keyleth.” He swallowed. “It did not go well.”

 “Oh?” he raised an eyebrow.

Vax could tell Percy wasn’t paying full attention, wasn’t sure if he was grateful or angry about that fact.

“When was the last time you slept?” Vax asked. “I’ll chalk this string of questions up to sleep deprivation.”

“Does she hate you?” Percy asked. “Was I wrong? I take no accountability for unhelpful advice.”

“No… no I don’t think so. Percival li—”

“So, what happened? I love other people’s problems. Was it terribly embarrassing?”

Giving up, Vax answered the question. “She said she was confused. She set not yet… maybe never. And I said I’d wait. It was terribly embarrassing. But I’m also glad I did it. It feels like a weight has been lifted off me, you know?”

“I can’t say I relate.”

It would be unfair, Percy thought, for him to tell him how he felt. He had been weak these last few days, clinging to Vax like a lifeline in a desperate attempt to make it through this week intact. Of course, that was when he’d still thought that was an option. It would be better—given what probably lay in store for them—if Vax hated him.

Bracing himself, Percy said, “you know… she tried to kiss me once. She was less successful than you, a lot less confident. To be fair, she was fairly drunk. That seems to be a running theme with me. So that probably means she is at least playing for the right team. Does that make things better or worse for you?”

“What the hell is with that tone of voice?” Vax demanded. “At this point, I honestly can’t tell if you’re telling the truth, or if you’re just trying to fuck with me.”

Percy shrugged. Some of the tea sloshed out of his shaking cup, and he put it back down, abandoning the idea of another sip.

“That wouldn’t have been a problem for me, you know? I mean, how hypocritical…” Vax trailed off. “But the way you’re talking, you’re making it sound like you think it should be.”

“I was just trying to offer some insight into Keyleth’s inner feelings. I thought it might be helpful, seeing as you asked for as much the other night. I need you to know, Vax. She’s nothing but a best friend to me.”

Looking into Vax’s eyes, Percy saw anger there, but also concern and sadness. If he wanted this to stick, he had to push further.

“I let you kiss me though,” Percy said, pretending to soften. This was childish, and terrible. He disgusted himself, yet he kept talking. “I understand it was a drunken mistake. I really shouldn’t have let it happen. I apologize for that. But the thing is, you just look so much like your sister.”

That had been intentionally taunting. There was no question in Vax’s mind. Anger flared up for a moment, but he quickly confined it, drawing on his experience as a sibling, on what he’d learned growing up as an outsider in a place where lashing out hadn’t always been an option. He wouldn’t let Percy rile him up.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Vax said, meeting Percy’s eyes with a chilling calm. “I’ll go. I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.” He got stiffly to his feet. “I hope you’re in a place soon where you don’t feel like you have to be. I’ll be here, when you’re ready to stop acting like a prick. The same goes for the rest of Vox Machina.”

“Are you sure?” Percy asked. “Aren’t you and Vex leaving? Why are you even here, putting up with my bullshit?”

Turning to leave, Vax called behind him, “don’t die of hypothermia,” before disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.

Percy threw his cup against the wall where it shattered into porcelain pieces.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Vax ate breakfast with the rest of Vox Machina. After replaying what he’d said to Percy over and over as he tried to get to sleep, he had determined that it would be terribly hypocritical of him not to take his own advice. Their makeshift family was here for each other. He just had to stop acting like a prick for long enough to realize that.

After all the anxiety, after that painful blockage in his throat that had made him feel like he would die if forced to make eye contact with any of them, the experience was not particularly awkward. Of course, Vax knew his social anxiety was a liar. But the knowledge never helped much when it decided to rear its ugly head once every few moons. Sometimes being invisible was easier. Vex understood that, knowing him as well as she did. That was probably why the teasing was minimal, when she caught sight of him heading for the banquette hall.

“Hey brother!” she exclaimed, slinging an arm around his shoulder and ruffling his hair. “I’m glad you finally came out of hibernation.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he grumbled. “I might just be fattening up a bit before going down for the real long sleep.”

“Well, at least wait until after Winterscrest. And honestly, if Trinket can be up and about all year, then really you have no excuse.”

“Shove off, Stubby,” Vax snorted, slipping dexterously away from her before embarking on a perilous quest for coffee.

Everything was… normal. Grog and Vex threw food at each other. Scanlan threatened to sing something called _“The Morning Song”_ and Vax threatened to slit his throat. Eating and chatting, it was easy to forget they were in the same castle that had run red with the blood of Percy and Cassandra’s family. Speaking of the younger de Rolo, Cassandra was slightly less morose than her brother. It was clear Keyleth and Vex were making an effort to befriend her, and Vax was sure Percy would be grateful.

Vax spent most of the day lounging with Trinket and Vex. At no point did he bring up his thoughts on leaving Vox Machina. It just didn’t feel right.

All day, there was no sign of Percy. And Vax knew that it wasn’t just him he was avoiding. The only time he spoke directly to Keyleth was when she’d come by looking for Percy. Vax could tell she was worried. He felt a little bad for just telling her he didn’t know, although it was the truth. He had seen Percy the most of anyone this week. It was just, he wasn’t sure if the information he had was the useful kind.

That evening, Vax did sneak by Percy’s workshop. Percy had been rather nocturnal this week, and he half expected to see him. Though he was not there, Vax found signs of him. What little work he’d done to rebuild the workshop had been undone. Newly built tools lay destroyed. In the now cold forge, Vax found scraps of paper, the remains of Percy’s notes and designs. He even found the charred husk of the leather-bound notebook Percy had owned since they’d found him in the prison cell. Vax remembered peering over his shoulder around the campfire, watching with reverence the care he took transcribing each line of the intricate designs Vax could never hope to understand. Without thinking, Vax reached in and grabbed it. What was left of the pages crumbled to ash in his hands.

A full day had gone by without seeing Percy once. Vax hoped he was doing okay. Still, he got to sleep that night without much issue. After all, Vax’s day had been good. He could almost forget he’d been going through a dark patch.

When Vax made his way down for breakfast the next morning, he found he was the last one to arrive, aside from Grog. That wasn’t out of the ordinary, since he tended to be late a sleeper. What was strange, was Vex, Keyleth, and Scanlan all clustered at one end of the table, looking at something. Giving a warry greeting, he approached. No one looked happy. In fact, Keyleth looked near tears.

A scroll of paper sat unfurled on the table. On closer inspection, Vax recognized the handwriting to be Percy’s. It was the kind of script that would have been pompous if it wasn’t so messy.

“What’s…?” Vax began.

“He’s leaving Vox Machina,” Vex said stiffly, partially in shock.

Vax snatched the parchment, reading it for himself.

~

_Dear Vox Machina,_

_I am leaving you. It is for the best. I have felt these last few days that there is no place left for me among you. I thank you for all you have done for me. You helped me save Whitestone, something I could not do alone. That is the best legacy I could ask for, even if my presence within it would be to its detriment._

_I must set out on the next leg of my journey without you. This is what is best for all of us. You will certainly be better off without me, but at its core, this is a selfish act. I am simply too weak to stay with you any longer._

_With new clarity, I can finally see my life as a series of compounding, poor choices. There was nothing I could've done to save my family, yet I still sold my soul in search of vengeance. Later I allowed Ripley to leave, knowing full well she was a greater threat to the world than the Briarwoods would ever be. Even with the pieces of my past I had forgotten, my weapons in her hands should have been enough warning. I traded the world's safety for the belief that I could murder my way to peace; that if I could be a greater horror, it would bring my family back._

_Once this lie was shattered I scrambled to find a solution, to make a deal, to undo my mistakes and balance the scales. I now understand that there are no scales, there is no redemption, and no ledger that judges me good or evil. I am simply faced with the terrible mistakes I've made and must act as I see fit. It is too late for me to fix the damage I’ve done. I would only make things worse, though maybe you have a chance. I am a selfish person. I hope one day you can forgive me for that._

_Love,_

_Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III_

~

As Vax reached the end of the smudged signature, he was hit with the realization that he didn’t get to be angry. He didn’t get to judge Percy for leaving. After all, hadn’t he just beaten Vax to the punch?

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Vax said, slowly. “Maybe this is what he needs, and he’ll come back to us when he’s ready.”

Keyleth was shaking her head. “Something doesn’t feel right. Something’s wrong.”

“He needs us!” Vex protested. “You think he’s in any sort of state to set off alone?”

Scanlan shrugged. “It seems awfully silly if you ask me. Didn’t he just get his home back? Why would he leave?”

“Maybe it’s just too much…” Vax struggled to explain, “at the moment.”

There was a fear in Keyleth’s eyes Vax did not understand. “I’m going up to his room!” she blurted out. “Maybe we can catch him.”

She took off running before anyone could say anything.

“Why would he do this?” Vex asked, her voice cracking.

“Maybe he thought it was the natural next step, I—uh, I was actually thinking about maybe leaving as well. Not without you, of course.”

“What?”

“I discussed it with him this week, casually, just kind of mulling over our options, and what was next for Vox Machina. He seemed against it. Or, at least, he didn’t say anything about considering it himself.”

“Why…?” Vex was staring at him angrily. “Never mind. Come one!”

Vex, Vax, and Scanlan hurried up the stairs to their rooms. They were all staying in the same part of the castle. Was Percy staying in his old room? It occurred to Vax that he’d never said anything one way or another. He’d never thought about who these rooms had once belonged to. Which dead sibling’s bed was he currently sleeping in, he wondered?

Percy’s door stood open. In the middle of the room, Keyleth stood, sobbing.

“Keyleth, what’s wrong?” Vex rushed towards her.

“He didn’t take any of his stuff,” Keyleth choked.

“Travelling light, maybe?” Vax asked. It felt like his brain was processing information at the speed of a snail. He couldn’t keep up with what was happening.

“You don’t understand!” He’d never seen Keyleth come apart like this. Tears dripped off her chin, and her body shook with every sob. “He didn’t take any of his stuff. Not his pack. Not Bad News. Nothing! Even his armor is still here.”

She gestured to a table where the leather pieces had been laid out. Eyes tracing the room, Vax realized she was right. Bad News lay on the dresser, disassembled like he had been cleaning it. Looking at the room, there were no signs of packing, no indication at all that he had left.

Vex covered her mouth to stifle a gasp, eyes widening. “That letter.”

“I don’t…” Vax trailed off as shock descended. His first instinct was denial. They were jumping to conclusions.

“He wouldn’t!” Scanlan proclaimed, almost angry.

“The—the seal,” Vex gasped, fighting back tears of her own. “The wax seal on the letter! It was still a bit warm. It hasn’t been the long. We have to find him!”

As if detached from his own body, Vax realized he was still holding the scroll of parchment, which he now realized could very well be Percy’s suicide note. He held it up as if to read it, as if he expected to find answers there, but it was like he’d forgotten how to read Common. The characters ran together on the page, though it might have been the tears beginning to sting his eyes.

The other three had been speaking. Yelling. Vax hadn’t heard a word of it. Suddenly, Vex was in front of him, shaking his shoulders.

“This is my fault,” he told her, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

She slapped him across the face. “Shut up, Vax! We don’t have time for that. We need to find him! We need to split up, cover more ground.”

Vax nodded mutely. He was frozen, unable to react as the others sprung into action. Scanlan was yelling into the earing, presumably to Grog. Then, there was no one left in the room but him. Every conceivable clue had been dumped at Vax’s feet, and yet he’d been blind to it. How could he possibly have been this stupid?

To an outside observer, or even to Percy himself, it might have been clear that this was not Vax’s doing. But in his head, there was nothing but guilt and fear. He had to move. He’d wasted too much time already. Would he be on the roof, where Vax had found him two nights ago? No. He wouldn’t do it somewhere where he’d be that easy to find. The letter had hidden its true purpose for a reason. Vax let the paper drop to the floor, and as it crumpled, inspiration struck. With a manic and desperate certainty, Vax knew where he needed to go.

 _“I probably should have died in this river,”_ Percy’s words echoed.

Clicking the boots of haste, Vax took off running. They petered out as he skidded through the back door of the castle. Now inert boots crunched across newly fallen snow. Slow, fat flakes fell thickly from the grey clouds. This was different from the flurries before. This was the kind of snow that stayed. Whitestone was beautiful in the winter, but Vax didn’t see it. He didn’t see the picturesque mountains or the white-dusted trees.

The snow absorbed all sound aside from the crashing of his footfalls or the raggedness of his breath. He heard the rushing of the river long before he saw it. He crashed through the trees, shoving branches out of the way.

At the edge of the river, just a little upstream, sat Percy. He perched on a rock jutting out over the crashing white-water, Ripley’s gun in his hand. And as Vax watched, he raised it to his temple and pulled the trigger.

“Percy!”

Everything moved in slow motion as Vax ran towards him. There was an empty click, and the barrel of the pepperbox rotated, but there was no explosion, no blood. There was also no black smoke, and no screech of metal. It did not appear as if the gun had jammed. Percy turned to look at him, surprise colouring his features. Then, he pulled the trigger again. There was another empty click. At the same moment, Vax hurled a dagger, aiming for Percy’s shoulder. But Percy was quick, managing to dodge out of the way. However, the gun had lowered slightly, and Vax seized his opportunity.

“Stop! Percival! Please...”

Vax leapt onto the rock. One arm went around Percy’s neck, the other grabbed the wrist holding the gun. Percy was fighting him, but Vax used gravity to his advantage. He pitched backwards off the rock, bringing Percy with him. They landed in the snow, Percy still clinging desperately to the gun. They fought for a moment, but Vax came out on top. He pinned Percy’s wrists to the ground, as he still refused to release the pepperbox. Knee digging into his stomach, it seemed like Percy had stopped struggling, at least for the moment. Looking down at his friend—blue eyes behind cracked glasses, and hair as white as the snow—Vax felt tears begin to carve paths across his cheeks.

“Why did you have to be here?” Percy asked, voice a little melancholy, but otherwise flat. “My body would have slid off that rock and into the river. You never would have found me. You never would have known. I would have been a traitor to Vox Machina, a bad friend who left. But it would have been fine, you would have all moved on.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Vax growled, through the tears. “Where you really going to do it? Were there bullets in that gun?”

“Just one,” said Percy, matter of fact. “I thought I had time. And as I mentioned in my letter, I’m a coward. So, I decided to play a game, of sorts. One bullet and I’d spin the barrel, then pull the trigger once. I wanted to see how many rounds I’d make it.”

He was too calm, detached, the look in his eyes as if he was a thousand miles away.

“Shut up!” Vax drove his knee into Percy’s gut. “You’re… you’re…”

Vax collapsed forward onto Percy’s chest, sobbing into his shirt. He wasn’t sure what he was saying. He didn’t know anything except he could still hear Percy’s heartbeat. His grip around Percy’s wrists had loosened, but the other man did not try to get away.

“I’m sorry,” Percy said, softly. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I’d rather die than do that. Though… I guess that’s obvious.”

Vax was so angry, at himself, at Percy, at the people in Percy’s past who had done this to him. Slowly, Percy brought his hands up to Vax’s face. One pushed back a strand of hair and the other wiped away some of the tears. Though he still clutched desperately at Percy’s wrists, Vax was no longer doing anything to restrain him. The gun had been left in the snow. Getting a hold of himself, Vax sat up, lifting his body off Percy’s. Then, he picked up the pepperbox and flung it into the woods. Percy barely reacted, sitting up as well, and tucking his knees to his chest. He hugged himself, looking very lost as to what to do next.

They both sat in the slowly accumulating snow, fat flakes clinging to hair and eyelashes. Despite that, it was not terribly cold. For a moment, they just stared at each other.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” Percy was the first to break the silence. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it… how the last things I said to you were horrible. It’s just, at the time, I thought this would be easier if you hated me.”

“I could never hate you, Percival,” Vax whispered, voice hoarse. “I knew you were just trying to get me to leave you alone. I shouldn’t have fallen for it. I should have seen how much you were hurting.” His voice was slowly rising in volume. “If only I’d been able to see past my own shit for a fraction of a second I could have done something. Maybe I could have stopped it from getting to this point.”

“I love you, Vax,” Percy said, weight behind every word, “but I don’t think even you could have stopped this.”

“And now?” Vax demanded. “Are you going to go for your gun in the woods? Do I have to tie you up?” His hand strayed towards his daggers.

“I don’t know,” Percy said. “My mind is numb, like I did fall in that river. I can’t think. It almost feels like I already died and you’re here to guide me to the afterlife.”

“Do I look like The Raven Queen to you? You’re still alive, Freddy,” Vax kicked him in the shin to prove that point, “and gods help me, you’re going to stay that way. Understand?”

“Ten times,” Percy said. “Ten times I could have been dead, and I didn’t feel peace, or happiness. I just felt numb, and a little scared… and guilty. I would have been leaving the world to pay for my mistakes.” He swallowed loudly. “But I am not a good man. And I kept telling myself that once I was gone, there would be no guilt left to feel.”

Vax reached out and took his hand, holding it between both of his. “You’re not a bad person, you don’t deserve death.”

“You’re wrong,” Percy said, though he did not pull away. “But I’ve been thinking… about what was probably waiting for me on the other side. Maybe even I don’t deserve that. There is a part of me that misses Orthax, but I don’t believe that would have lasted very long.”

“Then why?” Vax pleaded.

“I’m a damned man walking. What’s a little head start on eternity?”

“I don’t accept that,” said Vax. “We will free you from this. Together Vox Machina can do anything. You just need to stick around long enough to let us try.”

“And what about all the other souls I damned to that fate? Every being I killed with that gun. Or, at least I think that’s how it worked. Why do I get to avoid that fate when I’m the one who deserves it?”

“Then we’ll fix that too! I know you’re scared, but you aren’t alone. Don’t just feel guilty. Don’t just hate yourself. Fix the mistakes you’ve made and atone. Destroy Orthax and free the souls you sent to him. Stop Ripley from spreading your guns to the world.”

“I can’t.” His response came so quickly it overlapped the end of Vax’s sentence. “I tried. But the first time I froze. That’s what landed me in that jail cell. Even back when I had Orthax I couldn’t face her. The second time, I think Orthax had learned his lesson. I’d forgotten so many of… the details. But fear and anger are so closely intertwined. It’s hard to be angry when you aren’t sure what for. The Briarwoods seemed bigger threats, and I let her slip away.”

The cold was beginning to make its way into Vax’s bones. The snow around them melted from body heat, and the cloth underneath his armor was getting soggy, but they couldn’t leave now. He had to push further.

“What is it about Ripley?” Vax asked. “What had you forgotten?”

When it was clear Percy was not going to immediately answer, for a sort of paralysis had settled across his features, Vax wracked his brain for clues. Percy had pulled his hand free of Vax, still hugging his knees with his chin resting upon them.

“She interrogated you, right?” Vax remembered back when Percy had first told them about what had happened to his family. “After the Briarwoods took Whitestone, and before Cassandra broke you out.”

Percy nodded. When he spoke next, it was robotic and purposely devoid of all inflection. He did not meet Vax’s eyes. At times, his voice got so quiet Vax had to strain to hear it over the rushing of the river.

“Last time you asked me, I told you I didn’t know what happened to my family, but I remembered seeing bodies. How inconsistent is that, right? The truth is, when I tried to focus on that time, all I got was black smoke and anger. Now I remember what they looked like, motionless, bloody masses.” Percy swallowed. “I made it sound like I escaped right away, maybe a day or so after. At the time, I believed that. Now I know it was weeks… maybe longer. Though this lesser lapse in memory is more from a lack of windows than any sort of demonic influence.”

“Percy…” Vax breathed. He wasn’t sure what to say. There were some terrible things he could imagen. This was not one of them. It went beyond the reaches of his creativity.

“I thought I was the last one. I thought I was alone, with her, forever.”

“We will kill her,” Vax said, an edge creeping into his voice. “Even if you can’t, we will. I promise you this, Percival.”

If his words reassured Percy in any way, he didn’t show it.

“Like I said,” Percy continued, “I was not equipped for torture. I have found myself terribly affected by things which speak to my own weakness as much as they do to Anna’s cruelty. I am weak now, just as I was then.”

“That’s not true—”

“How long did Cassandra spend with the Briarwoods?” Percy demanded, a bit of emotion finally making it into his tone. “Yet is she falling to pieces like I am? And I had the audacity to feel betrayed! To be angry at her! We did what we must to survive, her and I both. To be fair, Orthax was hiding this from me at the time. Anger served him much better than empathy.”

“She needs you alive,” Vax said. “Trust me, I know. Sometimes it can be easy to forget that. You’re no good to your sister dead. She just got you back. Don’t take that from her. Doesn’t she deserve to get at least one member of her family back?”

It took Vax a moment to realize Percy was crying. The tears streamed silently down his face. Without thinking, Vax closed the distance, enveloping Percy in a tight hug. He stiffened, not reciprocating.

“I would prefer…” he stammered.

Vax released him.

“… if you didn’t touch me… at the moment. Any other time. Just, not right now.”

Nodding, Vax got stiffly to his feet. Momentarily forgetting himself, he offered Percy a hand. The other man did not accept it, getting up on his own, hands tucked into his armpits, his posture defensive.

“Would you mind getting my gun?” Percy asked. “You’re right that my work is not done, and I might need it again someday.”

Despite his better judgment, Vax complied. Maybe it was the implication of a future in Percy’s words. He found the pepperbox without much difficulty, stuffing it into one of the pouches at his waist.

“I’m not sure if I can face them,” Percy said. “What can I possibly say?”

“It won’t matter. They’ll just be glad you’re alive.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. They’ll cry. They’ll touch me. They’ll ask me questions I’m not prepared to answer.”

“I promise that if it gets to be too much I’ll get you out of there.”

“I believe you, Vax. Thank you.”

“You ready?”

Percy nodded solemnly, and they began their slow walk up the hill towards the castle.

“You know,” said Vax, “it might help to talk about those things you’re not prepared to talk about, someday. I’m not an expert, but someone once told me that showing others your scars helps them to heal.”

“I don’t believe that’s medically sound advice.”

Vax rolled his eyes. “You understand what I’m saying. You’re far too smart not to. Just know, Percival, I will always be willing to listen. Just like you listened to me this week.”

“I appreciate it. There are some things that I fear would get stuck in my throat if I were to attempt to speak them. Though maybe in time…”

The spires of Percy’s childhood home rose up to meet them. There was a twinge in Percy’s chest, a little like joy, and a little like regret. There had been a part of him afraid he’d never see it again. Vax hovered near his shoulder, clearly afraid to touch him.

“I should have learned by now,” Percy said, uselessly attempting to blink away the frozen tears clinging to his lashes. “The universe does not allow things to go as planned, even death. It was my mistake to attempt to take back control.”

“Giving in to the darkness controls nothing.” Vax pulled open the back door.

Percy froze. It felt like stepping across the threshold would mean giving up on his escape route, it would mean admitting that this engineered ending he’d been so sure of, he wasn’t sure about anymore. It would mean admitting that he had a future and accepting all the responsibility that came with that.

“Is it alright if I take your hand?” Vax asked, fingers hovering centimeters from his own.

“Ye-yes,” Percy stammered. “I think that would help.”

Vax’s hand closed around his, and it was so warm. It was a lifeline, an anchor. He could try to be brave, for once in his miserable life, at least while Vax was watching.

“We’re back,” Vax said into the earing, “he’s alive. Please. Be gentle.”

The hand tightened reassuringly. Percy tried to focus on that.

“What was your favourite place?” Vax asked. “In the whole castle.”

“The library,” the answer came quickly. “As a child I was enamored by it. So much knowledge in one place. I hope the Briarwoods didn’t destroy too many of the books.”

Vax lead him through the halls without words, but reassuring glances and the solid reminder of his presence through his grip, kept Percy tethered. They pushed through the dark, wooden double doors, and it was like Percy had stepped into the calmest moments from his childhood. Dusty shelves piled high with old volumes and a fraying carpeted floor muffled the world. They had then as they did now. Snow fell heavily outside the windows, and Percy was reminded of how—as a child—the time around Winterscrest had always felt a little magical. He remembered early mornings hidden away, nestled in an oversized chair as the fire crackled, eyes hungrily roaming the pages of these same books. He remembered relishing that certain kind of calm solitude, which he only now understood came from the knowledge that one was not truly alone. After all, just a few rooms away, his family had been waking up.

None of this felt real; being back here, Vax’s hand in his own. It felt like a dream. There was a part of Percy that knew that wasn’t exactly healthy, but it was better than the pain.

The moment was shattered before they could even cross to the furniture. The doors banged open to reveal Scanlan. After that, everything began happening too fast. They appeared one by one, Vox Machina, rushing back desperately to see him. In his current state, Percy was having trouble understanding the intensity of it all. They begged and yelled, cajoled and reassured. For some, all at the same time. There were tears, and relieved laughter, hugs and punches in the arm. Percy had managed to mumble out a few apologies and half-hearted reassurances, but for the most part he’d barely spoken.

When Keyleth, who had been the last to arrive, finally released him from a minute-long hug which had deteriorated into her sobbing into his neck, he realized he would have to say something. They were all staring at him like they were afraid. He’d never liked that; not when he was possessed, and not now.

“I’m sorry,” he said, for what felt like the thousandth time. But he meant it. He truly did. “I know now… I know my life isn’t my own. My life is all of yours. My life is my sister’s. My life is, this castle’s. My life belongs to Whitestone, and to all of you. I won’t try to take it again.”

As Vax looked at this terribly broken person he now knew he loved unconditionally, he struggled not to cry. Percy was lost and broken, it was glaringly obvious, but there was a part of what he’d said that reminded Vax painfully of himself. Maybe what Percy had said wasn’t the healthiest thing in the world, but for now, it was a start. For the moment, it was enough.

This world was not an easy place to live. To exist was to feel pain, but in that moment, he was sure of one thing. They would make it through, together, because there were things that made life worth living, and theirs stood in front of them.


End file.
